sliding glass door. She sat on a padded lounge and sipped her beer while he dumped charcoal briquettes into the grill, piled them neatly with tongs, squirted fuel over them, and lit the fire.
“It’ll be a while,” he said.
“Do you need help with anything?”
“Nope. We just have to wait for the fire. Would you like something to nibble on?”
She shook her head. “I’ve got to start watching my figure.”
“Something wrong with it?” he asked, turning a lawn chair toward her and sitting down.
“So far, so good,” she said. “But you know how it goes. We start letting ourselves go to pot the minute we hook the right guy.”
He felt a glow spread through him. “I’m the right guy?”
“Oh, I think there’s a good chance of it.”
“And you’ve hooked me?”
“Oh, I think so.” She gave him a smug smile. There was a glimmer of mischief in her eyes. “What do you think?”
“Good chance of it.”
“Then again,” she said, “maybe I’m the one who’s hooked. You’re reeling me in.” She flipped her sandals off. They dropped to the concrete patio. She slid her bare feet up the cushion and rested the beer can atop her raised right knee. “Stupid analogy, huh? Makes us sound like a couple of bass.”
“Hope you don’t turn out to be the big one that got away,” Dave said.
“Consider me landed.”
“So now what, I beat you on the head with a club? Clean you and throw you on the skillet?”
“Hell, no. I’m a trophy. You mount me.”
“I like that idea.”
“Me too.”
She lifted her beer, shutting her eyes as sunlight caught the top of the can. The reflection lit her face briefly with a bright disk. Dave watched her throat move as she swallowed. She set the can on a tray beside the lounge. She stretched, and her raising arms drew the front of her dress upward, molding it against the undersides of her breasts. She folded her hands behind her head and straightened out her legs.
“This is very nice,” she murmured.
“What is?”
“Just lying here. The sunlight, the beer, the smell of the fire. You. And knowing that nobody will barge in and ruin things.”
“We’ve had a run of bad luck that way.”
“I’m glad you had a chance to meet Debbie, though.”
“She’s a beautiful young lady.”
“She likes you.”
“We barely met.”
“She’s a quick study. And supercritical about the guys I go with. You seem to be the first to pass inspection.”
“Good taste on her part.”
“She’s got a keen eye for losers. Not me. I’m more like our mother. She always fell for weak guys with sad eyes. She must’ve been a basset hound in a previous life.” Joan opened her eyes and frowned at Dave. “I guess it’s an overdeveloped mothering instinct. It can screw you up, get you involved with guys who are…I don’t know, more like children than men. That’s no good, and I know it. I saw what it did to my mother. She wanted a knight in shining armor, but when it came right down to it, she always wound up with a lackey. I don’t want that happening to me. But it was happening to me. Time after time. It seems like I’m always getting attracted to guys who can’t stand on their own two feet. In my previous life, I guess I was a crutch.”
“I wouldn’t mind leaning on you,” Dave said. He meant it. From the look in Joan’s eyes, he could see that she knew he meant it.
“Anytime,” she said. “Shining armor, that’s heavy stuff.”
“So you think I’m a knight, do you?”
She smiled. “Close enough.”
“Are you a damsel in distress?”
“Frequently.”
“You’re pretty tough for a damsel.”
“I’m not so tough,” she said, and a soft, pleading look filled her eyes. It was the look he’d seen when she spoke of destroying Woodrow Abernathy with a kick. It was the look of a little girl who needed to be hugged and assured that everything would be all right.
Dave rose from his chair. He straddled the lounge, and Joan scooted toward him, wrapped her legs around him, pressed herself against him. “It’s all right to be tough,” he whispered, brushing her lips with his mouth. “I like you when you’re tough. But I like you when you’re not, too. I like everything about you. Almost everything.”
She drew her head back. The vulnerable look was gone from her eyes. Their mischief was back. “Uh-oh. You mean I’m not perfect?”
“Well, there’s one little thing…”
“I know, I’m taller than you. I’ll always wear flats. I’ll buy you lift shoes.”